


Elevate Your Brand

by purple_bookcover



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A little angst, Elevator Sex, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, M/M, Post-Canon, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Kenma hasn't seen Kuroo since he left. Encountering him again makes Kenma boil with the rage and resentment he's kept bottled up since Kuroo abandoned him all those years ago. The pent-up longing spills over in an elevator.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89
Collections: HQ Thirstmas 2020





	Elevate Your Brand

**Author's Note:**

> HQ Thirstmas: Hate sex
> 
> I'll confess, it coulda been more hate-y. But sometimes you miss your bro so much you hate him for it, ya know? **Spoilers** for their post-TS careers.

Words washed over Kenma. 

“Increase your brand.”

“Target audience.”

“Incentives.”

“Growth.”

He didn’t hear a single one, too transfixed by the man sitting across from him.

There were other people in the room. Someone clicked through PowerPoint slides while another talked about the power of Twitter impressions and the importance of branding yourself on social media. But Kenma saw them as much as he heard them. 

Kuroo stared right back.

From the moment he’d entered the room, slick in a business suit, hair much tamer than when they were in high school, his eyes had locked onto Kenma and never left. 

Kenma only barely kept his mouth from falling open. That would be dangerous, far too dangerous. Who knew how much of what swirled in his chest might burst out if he opened his mouth? It was difficult enough to keep it from showing in his face and lighting up his cheeks. 

“So, that’s our plan,” a woman said. 

Kenma blinked and forced himself to regard her.

“How does that sound?” she said. “I think we can really elevate your brand if we work together. You’re at the top of your game professionally, but your social media presence is next to nothing. If you had someone managing those platforms for you it would send you sky rocketing.”

Kenma didn’t respond, still trying to catch his breath, still swallowing down the words that crawled up his throat. 

“You, uh, you don’t need to decide today,” the woman said, “but think it over. This is a good way to secure your future for whenever your gaming career ends. Lots of pro gamers end up still trying to hold onto that brand after leaving competition.”

Kenma nodded.

The woman smiled, standing to offer Kenma a business card. “This is me. Please, reach out any time, day or night. Eventually, if you stick with us, I’ll be handing you over to my associate here, Kuroo. He’s newer to our team, but a real go getter. I think you two would get along great.” 

Kuroo stood, towering over the sitting Kenma. His face was a tight, calculated blank. He offered a business card. Kenma took it. 

_Tetsuro Kuroo  
Junior Associate  
Nekoma Advertising Agency_

There was a phone number at the bottom. 

Kenma tucked the card away. “Thank you,” he managed. He stood, legs hollow beneath him.

“Why, of course,” the woman said. “Kuroo, would you show him out?” 

Kuroo stood up straighter, but recovered after a moment. “S-sure. Yeah. Uh, please, come with me.” 

He didn’t wait before heading for the exit. Kenma had little choice but to follow, despite the way his throat clogged up and his legs trembled. 

They wound among cubicles and desks. More than a few people greeted Kuroo as he passed. 

They stopped before the elevators, trapped side-by-side in an empty hall closed off from the rest of the office. 

Kenma held absolutely still, staring at the blank metal doors. Kuroo shifted beside him but he dared not look. It couldn’t be Kuroo, it just couldn’t. Any moment, he’d find that he’d fallen asleep during that stupid presentation his stupid manager had forced him to go to. This was some fevered dream.

He glanced aside, but Kuroo was still there, still real. And he was looking down at Kenma.

“It’s really you,” Kuroo said. 

The tension taut in Kenma’s chest snapped. The obstruction in his throat burst free. “Where were you?” His voice ricocheted through the closed little hallway, too loud as it bounded off the metal of the elevator doors.

“What?” 

“Where the fuck were you?” Kenma said. “Where did you go? Why did you leave?”

Kuroo’s eyes fluttered through rapid blinks. “I … went to school.”

“You left me.” Kenma’s hands were balled into fists. His cheeks burned. His breaths hissed out in panicked gasps.

Kuroo’s surprise hardened into anger. “I was trying to make something of myself. What the hell do you mean, I left you?”

Kenma stepped close, so close their shoes nearly touched. “I was alone.” Damn his voice for cracking over that last word, but he couldn’t stop it. The flood poured out of him like a tidal wave, unstoppable. “You just fucking disappeared and said nothing and never even tried to talk to me and I was just fucking alone and what was I supposed to do?” 

“Whatever the hell you want.”

“I wanted--” 

Kenma clamped down on that last word. Angry tears sprang to his eyes. No, he wouldn’t. God damn Kuroo and his smug little smirks, but Kenma would _not_ say that. 

“Well, it looks like you did just fine without me,” Kuroo said. “So I don’t really see what the problem is. I’m the one working some office job for entry-level pay. Was I supposed to read your fucking mind? You never called or messaged or anything.”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Kuroo opened his mouth, perhaps to retort, but just then the elevator binged. Kenma startled. He’d completely forgotten the elevator. The meeting, the office – all of it boiled away in the anger that surged up out of Kenma once he took the stopper off the rage that had simmered in his gut for all these years. Kuroo had no idea what it had been like being a weird, awkward high schooler after he left. Kenma was nothing before Kuroo dragged him out of his room and he was less than nothing when Kuroo unceremoniously dropped him on his ass and left him to flounder alone without him. The days Kenma had spent pretending to be sick, his worsening performance on the volleyball team, his family’s probing questions as he retreated once again to hide away:

All of it was Kuroo’s fault.

“You--” Kenma started. 

He never got to finish. Kuroo grabbed him by the front of his baggy sweater and dragged him into the elevator, throwing him against a wall before the doors even closed. 

Kuroo’s hand coiled tight in Kenma’s sweater, holding him against that wall. “Look at you,” Kuroo snarled. “You’re successful. You have everything. You’re...” Kuroo’s lip curled into a sneer. “You’re perfect.”

All the breath evaporated from Kenma’s lungs. Perfect? He was a bum in an oversized hoodie who played video games for a living. And the only reason he was even good at the god damn things was because every day after Kuroo left Kenma had buried himself in imaginary worlds to stop the ache carving through his chest.

Kuroo’s face twisted around anger, but something else tried to push through as well, something that made his eyes shine and his lips tremble. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” Kuroo rasped, a hissed breath. 

Then he lunged forward, smashing their mouths together, still clinging to Kenma’s hoodie to hold him close. Kenma whimpered, breathless in Kuroo’s hold, and scrambled for whatever he could reach. He found the suspenders under Kuroo’s open jacket and grabbed hold of them. They didn’t make him feel any steadier as Kuroo went on sucking the breath from Kenma’s lungs with that searing kiss. 

Kuroo left Kenma’s mouth with a jerk. Before Kenma could drag in a steadying breath, Kuroo’s hand was at his waist, slipping under the elastic band of his sweatpants. 

Kenma yelped when Kuroo grabbed his cock. His head met the wall of the elevator with a thunk when he threw it back. 

“A-asshole,” Kenma gasped. “What are you d-doing?”

Kuroo’s mouth was at his neck, kissing and sucking and biting every inch of skin, leaving nothing unexplored. It sent a tremble into Kenma’s thighs, a tremble only made worse by Kuroo stroking his rapidly hardening cock.

“I wanted you,” Kuroo said against his skin. “I wanted you for so long. But I never said anything. And then I left. I knew I fucked up. I knew it. But even then I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Kuroo sucked hard on Kenma’s neck and Kenma bucked up into his hand. Kenma pulled on the suspenders, trying to drag Kuroo closer, but their bodies were already grinding against each other.

The elevator binged.

The damn thing was still going, pinging at each floor. Kuroo’s hand tightened at the sound of each blip, but he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. 

Kenma shifted a hand to Kuroo’s hair, tugging on it as Kuroo licked at his neck. 

“I thought,” Kenma gasped, “I thought y-you abandoned me.”

“I know,” Kuroo said. “Fuck, I know.”

“I hate you.” 

Kenma laughed, even as heat surged through his body, even as his cock twitched in Kuroo’s hand, even as Kuroo relented in his assault on Kenma’s neck to peer at his face. 

“I fucking hate you for leaving,” Kenma said. “And I always will.”

Kuroo’s hand paused. His free hand cupped Kenma’s face. Kuroo leaned in, pressing their foreheads together before kissing Kenma. It was slow this time, slow and lingering and weary, a drop of honey oozing sweet and mournful down Kenma’s throat. 

“I know,” Kuroo said. 

Then his other hand started working again, a jolting shock after the brief stillness. Kenma held onto his shoulders. Even with his eyes squeezing shut against the pleasure, he knew Kuroo was watching him, those sharp eyes of his tracing every gasp that puffed from Kenma’s lips. 

The elevator binged.

And slowed.

Kuroo did not.

He pumped even harder, even faster, hand working furiously as the elevator counted down the heartbeats left in their brief reunion. Kenma dug his fingers into Kuroo’s shoulders and arched into his hand. He wanted to shout, wanted to bite, wanted to cry. But all that emerged were moans and whines as Kuroo insistently stroked him.

He came in Kuroo’s hand and slumped back against the wall, shivering and hollow. 

Kuroo pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket and wiped off his hand, stepping back at last to give Kenma a breath of space. The anger was gone, grief replacing it as his eyes trailed up and down Kenma.

Kenma focused on righting his clothing. He pushed himself up straight, even as his legs trembled in protest. 

The elevator binged. The doors started to open.

Kenma watched Kuroo. He didn’t know what he was waiting for anymore. For the first time since he’d entered that meeting room, there were no words waiting to explode out. Kuroo had dragged out every last one.

The doors stood fully open. Kenma shoved himself away from the wall, marching out of the elevator. Perhaps everything had already been said. Perhaps it was better just to leave it at that.

He refused to turn and look back when he made it into the bottom floor hallway, refused to even glance at Kuroo as those doors started to close.

“I’m sorry.”

Kenma spun. The doors were nearly shut. A soiled handkerchief sat on the floor just outside the elevator. Kenma caught one final glimpse of keen eyes before the elevator shut, groaning as it climbed back up the long throat of the office tower.

Kenma plucked the dirty handkerchief off the floor and shoved it in his pocket before he left.

“I am too,” he said to no one at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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